The point

The point of time,

culmination of fears.

Holding my gaze,

eyes holding tears.

Seeing the surface,

grasping the depths,

inside is outside,

this is the point of time.

Lines become dim,

space beckons intimacy.

It is the one thing desired,

that weighs on the soul.

Make it stop,

make it go,

hold it in,

let it go.

But what is the point,

the point of our time?

Its to close for comfort,

yet to far to seize.

I want to take back,

those moments in time.

But they are the point.